


something i love dearly with all my heart

by brendonurie



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brendonurie/pseuds/brendonurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it was always you; falling for me.<br/>now there's always time, calling for me.<br/>i'm the light blinking at the end of the road;<br/>blink back to let me know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something i love dearly with all my heart

We shared a sloppy first kiss when we were thirteen.

  
"Have you ever kissed a girl before?"  
"Nah, not yet. You?"  
"No, me either."

We were in his room, and I was spending the night just like I always do on Fridays. We were playing video games; I can't for the life of me remember what it was. I just know we were. It ended, or we got bored, and we set aside the controllers to lay back on the bed.

"Hey, do you know... Like, do you know _how_ to kiss?"  
"Uh, actually, now that i think about it, i don't."  
"Me either, dang."  
"I used to kiss my mom. But that's not the same, right?"  
"No, man. No way."  
"I thought so."

We laid on his bed, in the dim light of his bedside lamp. It was quiet; the rest of his family asleep. We were there, just us, on his stupid twin-sized bed with its stupid dinosaur sheets. Then, he stood up, stretching.

"I'm pretty tired. Wanna go to bed?"  
"Yeah, sure."

He started changing into pajamas, and I stood up and followed suit. I remember looking at him, not-- not like that. I just remember taking note of his presence. We were thirteen anyway, not much to see. He was a little bit chubby, not yet fit, not yet built. I was always skinny. Stick thin, nothing to me.

He was actually the one to suggest it.

"Hey, Tyler."  
"What's up?"  
"Do-- Do you want to figure it out?"  
"What?"  
"You know."  
"Figure what out?"  
"How to kiss."

There was something deep in the pit of my stomach that moved when he said that. I still don't know what it was, but I do remember exactly the way it felt.

"What, like, with each other?"  
"I mean, what else would we do?"  
"You want to kiss?"

He grew a little indignant.

"Well, ugh, i don't _want_ to kiss _you_."  
"Well, I'm offended."  
"Shut up, Tyler! You know what I mean."  
"Yeah, I do."  
"So?"  
"Um, yeah. Alright. Let's do that."

We finished changing and sat down on his bed, our legs off the side and our feet still resting on the floor. Our bodies twisted a bit to face one another.

"Okay, so, I guess. We just."  
"Yeah."  
"Do you wanna be the girl?"  
"What? No! You're the girl!"  
"Well, we have to take turns, right?"  
"Does kissing even change for the girl?"  
"I don't know!"

Our voices skipped up a couple pitches, a couple decibels. We realized it at the same time, automatically hushing ourselves.

"Let's just, I mean, let's just try it."  
"Okay. Figure it out as we go."  
"Yeah-- yeah, right."

We leaned in, eyes cast down at the stupid dinosaur sheets. I remember him swallowing loudly. I remember his breath on my bottom lip and chin, hot and shuddery. I'm not sure, but I think our noses almost touched.

It was at this point that we chickened out.

"Crap, I don't--"  
"I'm sorry, I--"

We looked at each other, and there was a harsh stillness in the room. I couldn't tell you our facial expressions; I don't think our eyes left each other for a solid two minutes.

Then, we kissed.

Neither of us cocked our heads, our noses bumped into each other. It was quick, merely a peck. We jolted back to look at one another again.

Then, we kissed again.

We shared a sloppy second, third, and fourth kiss when we were thirteen, too.

After the second time, the stillness in the room dissipated. I might be making this up, but I think we moved closer together, knees knocking into each other.

"Should we--"  
"I don't--"

We had a bad habit of speaking at the same time.

"You go."  
"Should, should we, we don't have to, but should we kiss for a little longer next time?"  
"I think, yeah, I think so."  
"Okay."

We were very quiet for a few long seconds. I remember my back starting to hurt from how stiff and straight I was holding it.

I started leaning in again before him.

Our lips connected, and we still hadn't figured out to turn our heads, so our noses connected too. Then, he pulled back, just a little, and turned his head. Our lips connected more fully then, and I remember my back stopped hurting.

I might be making this up, too, but I think my hand came up off the bed; I don't know where I wanted to put it, but it moved of its own volition. It ended up hovering near his shoulder.

When we pulled away again after a few seconds, our faces didn't move back very far. We moved just enough to look at each other, dead in the eyes, and then we kissed again. We both moved our heads that time, and he exhaled. It wasn't-- I mean, it wasn't like, dreamy. He just. Exhaled.

It was dark behind my eyelids but behind my lips it was bright as day.

 

We fell asleep in his bed, our backs to each other. Two tiny thirteen-year-olds who still fit together in a twin-sized bed.

 

 

 

 

 

When we were fifteen, we both had girls we wanted to ask to the dance.

We had another impromptu practice session on a Friday night.

"Okay, bear with me, dude."  
“Okay."  
"I think we should practice kissing again."

For some reason, I didn't take much convincing.

After two chaste little pecks, I spoke.

"If we really want to be prepared, I--"  
"Tongue."  
"Yeah, dude. I didn't want to say it, but."  
"No, yeah. I was thinking that."

Josh was my fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth kiss. And I, his.

We never did ask those girls to the dance.

 

 

 

 

  
By the time we were sixteen, things had changed, but only a little.

"Shit, shit, shit--"

I wiped the mess onto his stupid, stupid dinosaur sheets.

"Oh my god, Tyler."  
"Was it--"  
"Great? Yes."

He leaned over and kissed me, and his hands fumbled with my button fly to return the favor.

 

 

 

When we were eighteen, we had sex.

It was the first and last time.

 

 

 

  
When we were twenty-two, we moved in together. It was great. we had a two bedroom apartment, but we slept in the same room, in the same bed. The second room was where we kept his drums, my keyboard.

 

 

  
The day I got engaged, he cried.

"Are-- Are you okay?"  
"I'm so happy for you, Tyler."  
"Don't lie."  
"I'm not."  
"You are."  
"Don't leave me."

I sighed.

"Josh, nothing's going to change."  
"But you're getting _married_. To her. And, and I don't mean I'm jealous, but Tyler. It's us."  
"I know. And that's why nothing is going to change."  
"Is-- Is she--"  
"I've never told her, but... I think she just knows. I think she gets it. She's seen us."

He laughed at that.

We spent the rest of that day in his hotel room, kissing, holding each other. It was easy.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't publish this when i wrote it a month ago but here it is.


End file.
